


As The Romans Do

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, Brothers, Gen, International Relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy tells Romano about meeting an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Romans Do

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/profile)[**puddingcat**](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing!

  
"I saw big brother Spain today!" Italy said, stirring the puttanesca sauce carefully. It wasn't one of _his_ recipes, but Romano liked it and Romano'd seemed a bit down recently, though of course when Italy had asked him if he was ok he'd said -  
"Shut up, Veneziano," Romano said.  
Italy wondered for a moment if Romano had read his mind, then thought maybe he'd better shut up, just to be on the safe side. Oh, the sauce was ready! He drained the spaghetti and arranged the sauce on top and put the whole big serving dish in front of Romano, because his brother was looking down again, and maybe a really big helping would cheer him up. Romano took a little helping and ate it slowly and miserably, which worried Italy because usually he had to fight to get his fair share, and Romano wasn't complaining even a little bit that there weren't enough anchovies -  
"Hey, Rom-"  
"So how was he?"  
Italy bit his lip and looked at Romano beseechingly, hoping for a clue.  
"_Spain_, moron."  
"Oh! Oh, he's fine. He got into the whole Gibraltar thing with England again. England really swears a lot, Romano, you'd have found it really funny-"  
"I don't fucking swear a lot." Romano pushed his dish aside and went to make coffee. He even poured most of his glass of wine down the sink, like he thought it hadn't gone well with dinner, though Italy had made a point of getting a bottle from Romano's territory, one he knew he liked. "What did he say?" Romano said to the taps.  
It took Italy a moment to realise the remark was directed to him. "He just said he wanted Gibraltar back. Then they had a fight, then he moaned a bit at big brother France - I saw big brother France too! - and Spain said he hoped I was doing ok, and then he went home."  
"He probably had an urgent nap he needed to take," Romano sneered. "I don't know why anyone thinks _we're_ lazy compared to him."  
"People think we're lazy?" Italy said in surprise.  
"Why are you such a moron?" Romano said, but it sounded more like, "I need a hug," so Italy went over and hugged him till Romano shoved him away and scowled and started in about respecting personal space. It took at least ten seconds, so poor Romano really _had_ needed a hug, he thought.  
"Romano, are you ok?"  
"He didn't say anything else?" Romano said, shoving a cup of coffee at Italy like it was a bomb. It wasn't, though, just a cup of coffee as strong as Romano normally made it.  
"No."  
"Huh," Romano said. "Rude bastard. He hasn't bothered asking after me for a while. He hasn't talked to me either."  
"Really?" Italy said, trying to remember. It probably wasn't going to help if he said that Romano sometimes - just _sometimes_ \- gave the wrong impression when he insulted people or told them he hoped they'd die in a fire or that all their people would simultaneously get the clap, like he'd told Spain in that big argument a while ago. Other people didn't know that was just Romano being himself. "I'm sure that last week -"  
"Ten years, seven months, one week and two days," Romano said. "Not that I care."  
"Oh," Italy said. He brightened. "You must be relieved, Romano! I mean, you've been telling him for centuries to leave you alone."  
Romano was looking at him with that _Veneziano, I_ cannot _believe we're related_ look again, but he wasn't yelling. He hadn't yelled for _ages_ \- maybe he felt sad this far north.  
"Romano, let's go and stay in Brindisi for a while. Would you like to? Or we could go to Sicily - do you want to stay in Palermo?"  
"Brindisi's fine," Romano said. "The view's better."  
He walked off, not yelling, not even saying Italy had some nerve, deciding they'd move into one of _Romano's_ cities without so much as asking. Italy had at least expected a discussion over which city would be nicest, and why all of _his_ cities were rubbish and how could he call some of what his people spoke "Italian" anyway? _Oh_, Italy thought. _Of course_. Romano probably didn't want to risk attracting Spain's attention, just when he'd finally got him to leave him alone.  
Being at the seaside would cheer him up, Italy thought. No one could be sad at the seaside, and with no danger of running into Spain, Romano would be back to his usual cheerful grumpiness in no time at all.

* * * * * * *

  
Romano would be able to see Spain's house from Palermo, while Brindisi gives a view of the Adriatic neighbours instead.


End file.
